Enough
by Moonbutton
Summary: None. It's too short!
1. Chapter 1

i) I haven't given up on 'No Distance...' I just can't seem to get the last two chapters down which is annoying because in my head I know exactly how it ends. Apologies to everyone who has been following that story - it'll have to remain a work in progress for the moment.

ii) I wrote this story in one go and for some reason just seems to work better as two chapters rather than one.

Enough

Part One

The hotel room looked just like any other she had stayed in over her lifetime. Correction; it looked like one of the better rooms she had stayed in, chasing Jarod across the country had led to her spending some nights in less than desirable places. This one though was more her style, right down to the well stocked mini bar. With that thought she reached for another drink and resumed her position on the bed. she hadn't bothered to unpack - there was no need, she'd be gone in the morning. If the weather hadn't been against her she'd be at home right then. With a heavy heart she realised that she'd be doing exactly the same thing. Some things were inescapable.

A small sigh escaped her lips as she ran her eyes over the two empty bottles on the bedside cabinet. How many more would it take? How much would be enough? Another half dozen and maybe, just maybe, she could forget everything. For a couple of hours at least. She toyed with the small bottle in her hand; a two hour flight with Sydney and Broots and a hangover did not hold any appeal. On the other hand... She shook her head sadly and to herself, as she was alone in her room. Alone. She placed the little bottle, still full, down on the table and picked up the red note book that had been her only find that day.

She had skimmed over its contents at the time of discovery, whilst at the same time had half heartedly feigned annoyance at once again missing Jarod by mere hours. Sydney had filled her in on the finer details over dinner later on and she'd found the contents as hard to stomach as her meal. Just as bad, she was sure Sydney had 'known' - as she'd been sure for the entire time she had been back from that island. He always seemed to know when she was troubled, even when she herself refused to admit it. Excusing herself from the table she'd taken the notebook with her and devoured its pages before commencing her drinking session. Because she knew what was coming next; she feared it yet she wanted it too. And that scared her more than anything because she didn't know how she'd react.

She ran her fingers down the cover of the book, slowly and gently. It wouldn't be long now. Closing her eyes, her head resting against the pillows she'd propped up, she let her thoughts wander down a road that she had veered away from. Where a fire had warmed her back and a man had warmed her soul. Where she'd almost given in. To a time when she'd had almost everything.

Her head jerked and her eyes flew open at the sound of her phone ringing. Interrupted in dreams as in life. She glared at the offending object as if she could stop it somehow through thought alone. She knew who would be on the other end of the line. Even if he hadn't called her for weeks now. The sad truth, she thought, was that there wasn't any one else who would call her. Her life consisted of The Centre and not much else; she was accustomed to that. She'd accepted it. The phone kept ringing.

She knew why, too. After her last rebuttal there had only been silence from Jarod. Blissful days that were Jarod free, days that had convinced her that not only had she done the right thing but he had actually listened. Days had turned to weeks and she had even begun to relax - despite the fact that Raines had practically threatened to kill her, something Lyle seemed intent to make happen, by default at least. And then the weeks had turned to a month, a lead on Jarod dragging her miles away from home and into... This. Her phone continued ringing and her conviction threatened to desert her with each sharp, tuneless note. Absence makes the heart...

If she ignored it he'd just keep calling. If she turned it off that wouldn't stop him - he might even turn up in person. She couldn't risk that. She held the notebook a little tighter, the newspaper cuttings (separated from their pages with such precision) contained within worried her. She feared what he would say - and what her response would be. But there was only one option available to her: the only one she'd ever been allowed to have. The one she still chose. She took a deep breath. Using her free hand she picked up the phone swiftly and answered as curtly as she could: "What?"

"It's me."

She silently cursed him for not disappointing her - and herself for allowing his voice to wash over her so easily, eroding what defences she had left. She didn't feel she could respond without giving herself away so she remained silent but her mind was already picturing his face. His smile. His eyes.

"I'm sorry I missed you today, Miss Parker."

She screwed her eyes shut. He sounded genuinely sincere and she could picture just how he looked at that moment. How had that happened? How did she ever get to that point? It was more than just knowing about one's prey. Lyle could never do that. She would bet everything she had that Lyle never thought about Jarod, late at night, tucked up in bed... She still couldn't answer; why couldn't she find the same strength she'd had the last time they'd spoken? She needed to say something, he would only construe her silence in the wrong way - which in the true Centre sense was the right way.

"Did you read the notebook?"

Jarod wasn't giving up, though deep in her heart she never for one moment really thought he would. That was her own fault; she'd let her guard down and he'd seen too much. But she'd seen as much too. Opening her eyes, her vision slightly blurred due to the constriction she'd imposed, she took one long deep breath. "A little light reading before bedtime - murder, tragedy, just another day working for the Centre." She flipped open the notebook to the first page as she spoke, her eyes flitting over the first headline: 'Local Teen Missing'. She was glad she'd stopped short of quoting one of the reports Jarod had pasted (again with such care) into the book which had used the description of 'Romeo and Juliet'. He'd have a field day with that.

"Did you find it familiar?"

She could hear the sadness in his voice. She turned to the next page the headline screaming the discovery of the missing girl's body - and the byline whipping up paranoia about a killer in the midst. "I'm sure Shakespeare owns the rights. If he doesn't Hollywood soon will." She turned another page, her eyes briefly skimming the article. She knew what Jarod was implying but she hoped she could avoid it. She really should have known better.

"I was thinking of something a little closer to home."

"I know," she admitted softly. She knew exactly how close to home this was. It was why she'd bolted from the dinner table. Sydney had seen it too. Two young lovers torn apart. There had been accounts from townsfolk who had described their surprise at the eventual outcome; quotes abounded of how close the two had been. Had grown up together despite the girl's father expressing his disapproval at every opportunity.

"I thought the father was guilty," Jarod said just as quietly.

She closed the book slowly. By all accounts the father was somewhat of a tyrant, not a well liked man at all. He had raised his daughter alone since the mother had run out on them years ago. The victim's father had recently forbidden his daughter from seeing her boyfriend again - with good reason it turned out Parker had thought. "You would Jarod." A silence followed her remark, only his even breathing assuring her he was still there. And hadn't finished.

"He made her choose."

"And she made her choice Jarod," she said quietly but determinedly, "She did what she thought was right." The words sounded forced, even to herself and she inwardly cringed at the ambiguity of her statement. She expected his next words to question just exactly whom she was referring to.

"He loved her so much. He was devastated."

"The father?" she asked hesitantly, as the allusion to Mr Parker he was clearly making started to stray. Her own father hadn't loved her, she was sure of that now - not in the way fathers should love their children.

"No. The boyfriend."

She sighed for the second time in ten minutes. She supposed she should be asking him where he was but she'd long given up pretending to him that she cared about taking him back. He had torn down so many of her defences and she had tired of trying to put some of them back up. There were some though that she could never relinquish, as much as she wanted to. "You've been out here long enough Jarod - I don't see how this surprises you." She knew he was no longer talking about the murder that had ripped a small town apart. He was talking about them. Just as she knew that he wouldn't buy her attempt at a diversion.

"He _loved_ her Parker. I don't know how he could do what he did, but I can understand why he couldn't accept that it was over."

She should really hang up on him and end this conversation because it wasn't going to turn out for the best - for either of them. She fingered the last page, the last words on a tragedy laid bare. Jarod's words spun in her mind throwing her a little. "He should have just let her go, Jarod." There was another brief silence as Jarod contemplated her words, she was certain he got the meaning behind her statement.

"He loved her too much to ever let her go."

She hated this. She hated how he made her second guess herself. How he made her question her life - even if he was right sometimes. She hated how he made her feel. That last sentence told her everything, everything she had been trying to deny. He was never going to give up, despite the fact she'd told him there was nothing between them.

She closed the notebook, swallowing at the lump forming in her throat. How easy it would be to give in completely. He was probably close by, just waiting for her. But she couldn't. The easiest route wasn't always the best way. And in this case the so called 'easy route' would only prove to be down right hazardous. Apart from the fact that she'd have to face up to her feelings, a life on the run with a gun toting psycho of a brother and a murderous, multi national company on her trail didn't appeal. It would only end as tragically as Jarod's cuttings had. There would be no happy ending. Love, in her experience, was inextricably linked with pain and loss.

She gripped the notebook, rubbing her thumb across one corner of its cover. So close yet so far away. Her eyes glanced at the abandoned (still full) bottle at her side; she was going to need that - and the rest of the mini bar - very soon. Damn the hangover and damn Syd's worried fussing. "Jarod..." she paused, willing her voice to find the required pitch and hoping that, this time, he would finally understand, "Too much just isn't enough." It was a painful silence this time; for him and for her.


	2. Chapter 2

Enough

Part Two

He picked up his phone, his thumb hovering over the keypad. She was in her room, alone. He knew that because he had watched her for most of the night, had seen her enter her room. And because he was currently occupying the room next to hers. Risky? Yes. Stupid? Most probably. But he wouldn't be anywhere else right then; with the possible exception of her room of course but she would never permit that. He let the phone slip out of his hand and onto the large bed he was currently sprawled on. He closed his eyes and let his mind take him somewhere else, a place in his not so long ago memories where he liked to dwell.

But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. And trying to ignore what had happened - almost happened - hadn't helped either; it had just made his feelings all the more obvious. As a pretender he supposed he could live the rest of his life in denial, carry on the charade of a normal life, but as a man that option seemed... Impossible. Unimaginable. Undesirable.

He couldn't talk to his father about it; he wasn't sure how the old man would take the news and trying to tell him without mentioning the other party involved seemed dishonest in a way. Nor could he talk to Sydney; he feared his mentor's reply wouldn't be what he wanted to hear. Plus, if anyone at the Centre knew just how deep his feelings ran they would only use it, and use her, against him. And then there was her. What convinced him that she, in some way, reciprocated was her actions; though she refused to admit to how close they'd come on that island, neither was she using it against him. That was enough for him, enough to try again.

Opening his eyes he picked up the phone again and this time managed to press the button. He propped himself up on his free arm and stared at the wall that divided them. It rang and rang. He rose slowly from the bed, his eyes never leaving the same small square of wall. He silently urged her to pick the phone up, wondering if he'd been wrong to lure her here.

Maybe he should have done things differently, not acted so impulsively. But that was a freedom he'd long been denied. He'd arrived in the town a week ago, drawn to it by a headline he'd read on an abandoned newspaper at a bus depot. He hadn't been sure why at the time but he'd felt compelled to dig further into the murder of that young girl whose picture had smiled out at him; sometimes he just fell into his pretends. He'd ingratiated himself onto the investigation without any problems, but the enquiry had hit him hard.

"What?"

He smiled to himself despite the tone of her voice. "It's me," he whispered softly into the phone. Her voice only made his conviction stronger, just as watching her at dinner with Sydney had. She didn't make any attempt to respond and he figured she had been expecting his call. He always felt she was more intuitive than she let on. She had left the restaurant very abruptly and, though he hadn't been able to hear what she and Sydney were discussing, the notebook and its contents had obviously played a part. "I'm sorry I missed you today, Miss Parker," he tried quietly, his eyes still firmly on one wall of the room.

Again there was silence. She wasn't giving anything anyway and she seemed reluctant to play their usual game. Maybe that meant... He stopped himself from assuming further on the matter. There was only one person he found very difficult to predict and that was his huntress. She rarely acted on her feelings the way most people would - nine times out of ten she would ignore them. If only he could predict that one time when she did, like on that island. Like he hoped she would now.

"Did you read the notebook," he asked, a little redundantly as he knew she had. What else had she been doing for the past hour, apart from hitting the bottle? In the silence of his room he heard the long breath she took before replying and it made his stomach flip.

"A little light reading before bedtime - murder, tragedy, just another day working for the Centre."

His smile faded to nothingness. She was avoiding the point, the whole reason he had led her here. And making her position very clear; that was where she stood, in the shadow of that place. He had half hoped that she would come on her own having sent the relevant details to her address rather than the Centre, but Sydney and Broots had tagged along. It was a message he felt sure, that she wasn't going to risk being alone with him again. "Did you find it familiar?"

"I'm sure Shakespeare owns the rights. If he doesn't Hollywood soon will."

"I was thinking of something a little closer to home," he whispered, pushing past her glib reply. He could hear what he thought sounded like pages in a book being turned over. She had the notebook with her. He briefly wondered which page she was on, which part of the story she had been drawn to because, despite her protestations, she wasn't a cold woman. It would have got to her just as it had with himself. On reading the initial reports and witness statements he'd been slightly perplexed, just as the sheriff had been. The young victim had no enemies, was doing well at school and had a bright future ahead of her. She was well liked by everyone. The only person he'd found slightly off had been the girl's father; he had been gruff and standoffish, with both Jarod and the sheriff.

"I know," she said softly into his ear.

He smiled weakly; she'd gotten the point. It was all laid out for her in the notebook. "I thought the father was guilty," he admitted. Further questioning of the locals had confirmed his suspicions of the father's character but there was nothing to link the man to his daughter's death. It was only an off hand remark by the sheriff that had led Jarod to the boyfriend. And the truth behind the girl's death. The boy had broken down and admitted everything just a few nights ago. He'd confronted his ex girlfriend, begged to know why she had ended their relationship. They'd argued, it had got heated and she shoved him away. In a moment of anger he'd pushed her back and she'd fallen awkwardly. An accident of the worst kind. Jarod had felt a strange affinity with the boy, knowing how it felt to be rejected by the person you loved. So much so that he'd let the boy go on the basis that he would tell his parents the truth then turn himself in.

"You would Jarod."

"He made her choose," he replied, walking towards the wall. She was behind there, somewhere. Maybe sat on her bed. Maybe pacing the room. Or staring at the pages of the notebook.

"And she made her choice Jarod. She did what she thought was right."

There was a shift in their conversation, a changing of gears; they were no longer just talking about what had happened to those two kids. But he caught the discrepancy between her words and the way she said them. There was a strength behind them but they lacked any real conviction. "He loved her so much," Jarod said distractedly, "He was devastated."

"The father?"

"No," Jarod muttered quietly, "The boyfriend." Was she being deliberately obtuse? He heard her soft sigh; maybe she was just tired.

"You've been out here long enough Jarod - I don't see how this surprises you."

He shook his head sadly. He wasn't sure what he'd achieve by drawing her here, only that he'd be close to her whilst still away from the Centre. Maybe he wanted to believe she'd come alone, that she'd changed her mind, that they wouldn't end up like those kids. It was the boy's actions though that had begun this chain of events. Just hours after speaking to Jarod the boy had taken away any possibility of a trial by taking his own life. "He loved her Parker. I don't know how he could do what he did, but I can understand why he couldn't accept it was over."

"He should have just let her go, Jarod."

He swallowed hard at the lump in his throat. She was asking him to do something that he didn't think he could do, even if he wanted to. He took a few more steps forward until he was almost flush against the wall. Just under a foot of space remained, enough to press his hand flat against the wall in front of his chest. "He loved her too much to ever let her go," he whispered into the phone. She was silent for a few moments, allowing him to briefly nurse positive thoughts.

"Jarod..."

But this wasn't going to be one of 'those' times out of ten.

"Too much just isn't enough."

He closed his eyes slowly, leaning forward until his brow rested against the cool wall as well. He didn't agree with her but there was no point arguing any further tonight. He just hoped that one day he would be able to convince her that too much was more than enough.


End file.
